Prague Fatale (30 page)

‘You’re a strange one, too, Commissar. For a policeman.’

‘I get a lot of that. Remember that wild kid they found walking around Nuremberg during the last century? The one who claimed he’d spent his early life alone in a darkened cell?’

‘Kaspar Hauser. Yes, I remember. He ended his days in Ansbach, didn’t he? Everyone knows that old story.’

‘The only difference between me and Kaspar is that I have a terrible feeling I’m going to end
my
days in a darkened cell. So, for that reason alone, it might be best if you made me a promise not to tell anyone that we’ve had this conversation.’

‘I promise.’

‘All right, you can run along now. I’m going to search Albert’s room.’

‘I thought you already did.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that the other two adjutants, Captains Kluckholn and Pomme, were here already when I came in to strip the bed. They’d emptied the drawers into some cardboard boxes and took them away.’

‘No, that was nothing to do with me. However, they probably wanted to collect Albert’s personal effects to send back home to his parents. The way your pals do when you catch the last bus home.’

‘Yes, I expect so.’

But Rosa Steffel didn’t sound any more convinced of this than I was.

On the way back to the Morning Room I found Kritzinger winding the long-case clock. I looked at it and checked my wristwatch but the butler was shaking his head.

‘I wouldn’t ever set your watch by this clock, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s running very slow.’

‘Is that well-known in the house?’ I was thinking of the approximate times that had been given to me in Heydrich’s study earlier on.

‘Generally, yes. The clock urgently needs to see a clock-maker.’

‘There must be plenty of those in Prague. This city’s got more clocks than Salvador Dali.’

‘You would think so, sir. But so far my own inquiries have revealed that all of them seem to be Jews.’

‘A Jew can’t fix a clock?’

‘Not in this house, sir.’

‘No, I suppose not. That was naïve of me, wasn’t it? This is an interesting time we live in, wouldn’t you say? Even if it is always the wrong one.’

I glanced at the gold pocket watch in Kritzinger’s hand.

‘How about your watch, Herr Kritzinger? Can that be relied upon?’

‘Yes sir. It’s a Glashütte and belonged to my late father. He was a station master, on the railways in Posen. A good watch is essential for a railwayman in Prussia, if the trains are to run on time.’

‘And did he? Get the trains to run on time?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Me, I always thought it was the Leader who did that.’

Kritzinger regarded me with polite patience. ‘Was there something I could help you with, sir?’

‘According to that Glashütte of yours, Kritzinger, what time did the party in the library fold last night?’

‘The last gentlemen went up to bed just before two, sir.’

‘And they were?’

‘I believe it was General Henlein and Colonel Bohme.’

‘I believe General Henlein made himself a late-night snack out of Captain Kuttner. Is that right?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean, sir.’

‘Sure you do. The General cut the Captain off at the tops of his boots, didn’t he?’

‘I believe the General might have said something to the Captain, yes sir.’

‘Didn’t he threaten him?’

‘I wouldn’t like to say, sir.’

Kritzinger snapped the lid shut on the gold pocket watch and dropped the timepiece into his vest pocket. It was an impatient action, quite at odds with his general demeanour, which was always to be of service even when it was in the face of the provocation I offered, like asking him apparently frivolous or trivial questions that bordered on the impertinent or the unpatriotic.

‘I can understand that. Nobody likes a
Petzer
. Especially when the
Petzer
is the butler. In relation to their employers and perhaps their guests, too, good butlers are expected to behave like the three wise monkeys, right?’

Kritzinger’s head bowed almost imperceptibly. ‘That describes my position vis à vis my superiors, only up to a point, sir. As you suggest, I am obliged always to observe. But I never judge. One must always guard against such unnecessary distractions in service.’

‘Particularly now, I’d have thought. Working for General Heydrich.’

‘I really couldn’t say, sir.’

‘Herr Kritzinger? I respect you. And I wouldn’t ever try to bully a man who wears an Iron Cross ribbon in his lapel. The way I figure it, you probably won yours the same way I won mine: in hell. Fighting a real war against real soldiers who fought back, most of them. So you’ll know that I’m not likely to be a man who makes idle threats. But this is a murder inquiry, Kritzinger, and that means I’m supposed to behave like a very nosy fellow and take a peep between the pots on everyone’s window ledge. I don’t like doing it any more than you do, but I will do it even if I have to throw every fucking pot through your window. Now what did General Henlein say?’

The butler stared at me for a long moment, blinking with silent disapproval, like a cat in an empty fishmonger’s.

‘I can assure you, I do appreciate your position. There’s no need for profanity, please, sir.’

I sighed and thumbed a cigarette into my mouth.

‘I think there’s every fucking reason for profanity when someone is murdered. Profanity helps to remind us that this isn’t something that happened politely and with good manners, Kritzinger. You can polish the silver on this all you want, but a man was shot last night, and every time I put a cigarette near my mouth I can still taste his blood on my fingers. I see a lot of bodies in my line of work. Sometimes it looks like I brush it off, but “fuck” is what I still say to myself every time I see some poor bastard with a leaky hole in his chest. It helps to focus on the true profanity of what happened. Do I have to swear more loudly and twist your face in my hand while I’m doing it or are you going to heave it up? What did General Henlein say to Captain Kuttner?’

Kritzinger coloured and then glanced around nervously.

‘The General did threaten the Captain, sir.’

‘With what? A blanket bath? A kiss on the cheek. Come on, Kritzinger, I’m through dancing with you.’

‘General Henlein had taken a fancy to one of the maids, sir. Rosa. Rosa Steffel. She’s a good girl and she certainly did not encourage him. But the General had consumed a little too much alcohol.’

‘You mean he was drunk.’

‘That’s not for me to say, sir. But I do believe he was not quite himself. He made a pass at Rosa, that left the girl embarrassed, and I would have intervened had not the Captain done so first. This earned him a reprimand from General Henlein. More than just a reprimand, perhaps. He was abusive. But I recall it wasn’t just General Henlein, sir, who spoke so violently. Which is another reason, perhaps, I did not interfere, sooner. Colonel Bohme had something to say as well, and between them they straightened the unfortunate Captain’s tie for him.’

‘Give me some verbs, here, Kritzinger. What were they going to do to him when they were sober?’

‘I do believe that the General called the Captain a filthy coward and said he’d make him pay for his damned interference. Then the Colonel came in with his two pfennigs’ worth. He accused Captain Kuttner of insubordination and of being a Jew lover.’

‘What did Captain Kuttner say to that?’

‘Mostly nothing at all, sir. He just took it as you might have expected given their difference in ranks.’ Pointedly, he added, ‘The way a butler might have to take abuse from one of his employer’s more uncouth and loutish house guests.’

That made me smile. It was easy to see how Kritzinger had won his Iron Cross.

‘Colonel Bohme also mentioned something about sending Captain Kuttner to the eastern front where his cheek and insubordination would receive short shrift from his commanders. Captain Kuttner replied – and I believe I’m quoting him here – that “it would be a privilege and an honour to serve with real soldiers in a real army commanded by real generals”.’

‘He said that?’

‘Yes sir. He did.’

‘Good for him.’

‘I thought so too, sir.’

‘Thank you, Herr Kritzinger. I’m sorry if I was loutish with you.’

‘That’s all right, sir. We both of us have jobs to do.’

I glanced at my wristwatch again and saw that I had five minutes before I was supposed to see General von Eberstein in the Morning Room.

‘One more thing, Kritzinger. Did you see Captain Kuttner before he went to bed?’

‘Yes sir. It was after two. By my watch. Not this clock.’

‘How did he seem?’

‘A little depressed. And tired. Very tired.’

‘Oh?’

‘I remarked upon it. And wished him a good night.’

‘What did he say to that?’

‘He gave a bitter sort of laugh, and said that he thought he’d probably had his last good night for a long while. I confess this struck me as an unusual thing to say, and when I asked him what he meant he said that the only way he would sleep would be if he were to take some sleeping pills. Which he intended to do.’

‘So you had the impression that he hadn’t yet taken them?’

Kritzinger paused and thought about this. ‘Yes. But as I say, he certainly didn’t look like a man who needed sleeping pills.’

‘Because he looked so tired already?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘Did you see him drink very much last night?’

‘No. He hardly drank at all. He had a glass of beer in his hand before he went to bed, but now I come to think of it that was all I saw him drink the whole evening. He seemed to be a most abstemious sort of person, if I’m honest.’

‘Thank you. By the way I should like to have a plan of the house, with an indication of who was in each of the bedrooms. Is that possible?’

‘Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.’

‘All right, Kritzinger. That’ll be all for now.’

‘Thank you, sir. Will you be lunching with everyone, sir?’

‘I really hadn’t thought about it. But I missed breakfast and now I find I’m ravenously hungry, so yes, I will.’

SS Obergruppenführer Karl von Eberstein was chatting with Kurt Kahlo when I came into the Morning Room. He was a genial type for an aristocrat.

‘Ah, Commissar Gunther, there you are. We were beginning to think you’d forgotten me.’

He was early and he knew it, but he was also a general and I wasn’t yet ready to start contradicting him.

‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for long, sir.’

‘No, no. I was just admiring General Heydrich’s grand piano. It’s a Blüthner. Very fine.’

He was standing right in front of the instrument – which was as big and black as a Venetian gondola – and touching the keys, experimentally, like a curious child.

‘Do you play, sir?’

‘Very badly. Heydrich is the musical one. But of course it runs in that family. His father, Bruno, was something of a star at the Halle Conservatory. He was a great man and of course a great Wagnerian.’

‘You sound as if you knew him, sir.’

‘Bruno? Oh, I did. I did. I’m from Halle-an-der-Saale myself.’

‘Someone else from Halle. That’s a coincidence.’

‘Not really. My mother was Heydrich’s godmother. It was me who introduced the General to Himmler and set him on his way.’

‘Then you must feel very proud of him, sir.’

‘I do, Commissar. Very much so. He’s a credit to his country and to the whole National Socialist movement.’

‘I had no idea that you and he were so close.’

Von Eberstein came away from the piano and stood beside me in front of the fire, warming his backside with conspicuous enjoyment.